


The Chosen: Rebekah's Story

by coveredbyroses, Impala_Dreamer



Series: The Chosen [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Blood, Character Death, F/M, Gen, NSFW, Plotting, Show level violence, Smut, all the things, character injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 05:51:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17037896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coveredbyroses/pseuds/coveredbyroses, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Dreamer/pseuds/Impala_Dreamer
Summary: ~Michael has come to our world to cleanse and rebuild. He has chosen a select few to aid him on his journey to a better world. These are their stories~





	1. Rebekah's Story - Part One

There was a single beam of light that snuck through the curtain each night and Kelly liked to play with it; running her fingers across the hardwood floor as if they were dancing on stage in a spotlight. It was stupid, she knew, but it was entertaining. Funny how something so simple could make her smile now. There wasn’t anything else for her. Not since he came and took over her life. 

The cage was small but not too small, made to house a larger dog while its owner was away. But Kelly was small herself and was able to curl up with her pillow and favorite blanket, waiting for him to come back from wherever he went everyday. 

And he always came back. 

Some days she woke up and Michael was gone, others he was there, sitting at her desk; her laptop open, making his way across social media with a dexterity of one who’d been at it for years. She almost regretted now showing him how it all worked; almost. It was, after all what had brought him to her, and Michael seemed to revel in the attention that her blog offered him. He was recruiting, she knew, whether the other users realized it or not, and Michael was enjoying the adoration of those who threw themselves at his virtual feet.

Tonight, he sat before her, computer fan buzzing as he bounced between blogs, ‘answering prayers’ as he like to say. 

Kelly lay still on the floor of her kennel, watching his thick fingers navigate the keys, wondering how much longer until he tired of this game and set her free. Deal was, she had until the end of the month to give in and join his crusade or be killed. Ten days later, she was actually getting used to the cage, to being held hostage, to him. Maybe it was early stages of Stockholm Syndrome, or maybe she was too tired to care anymore. Didn’t matter. It was what it was. Her life was thin metal bars and an Archangel now. 

Michael made a noise that was almost a laugh and Kelly picked her head up from her pillow. 

“Do you know this… Bamby person?” he asked, not bothering to look back at her as he spoke. 

Kelly sat up and crossed her legs, stretching her arms a bit as she thought. “I mean, not really, really. We talk sometimes. I don’t know her off-line. Why?”

“She amuses me,” he said simply, tapping away at the keyboard. “She responds with pictures of kittens and likes me to call her my… pet.”

Kelly laughed and picked at a wayward string on the hem of her pants. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” 

Michael went silent again, which wasn’t at all unusual. There were nights when he never spoke a word, simply sitting in the dark living room, staring at nothing, planning, waiting. Kelly never understood what he was up to, but she sure as hell had learned not to question him. 

Kelly’s ears perked when Michael hummed at the glow of the computer screen. “Like putty,” he breathed. Unease churned in her gut at the archangel’s murmur - whatever he was planning couldn’t be good.

MIchael pushed his chair back, the wheels rolling audibly over the dusty floor. Kelly held her breath as he rose to Dean’s towering height. He turned slowly toward her, shoulders relaxed, head at a slight tilt. “I have a surprise for you,” he smiled, teeth gleaming in the low light. “I think you’ll like it.” 

Kelly shakily released her breath and swallowed, very sure that she would, in fact, not like whatever scheme he had concocted.

The Archangel didn’t wait for a response, however. He simply turned on polished heels before leaving the room, clicking the door shut behind him. Kelly was left alone with nothing but her own racing thoughts once again. 

Michael had left the laptop open, and if she squinted, Kelly could just make out the blur of the tiny text lining the screen. She leaned forward, pulling up to her knees, small hands curled around the bars of her cage. 

It was an ask, of that Kelly was certain - but she couldn’t quite make out the sender. She shifted her weight, kneed her way as little closer, and pressed her forehead against the cool metal.

impaladreamer-main asked:

Kelly’s heart lurched to her throat - Beka? Why would-

The sound of the door opening ripped her from her panicked thoughts. 

Michael stood tall, chin lifted, eyes downcast as he gazed down at his captive. Kelly felt a tremble ripple through her as Michael twisted Dean’s full lips into an icy smirk. 

“We’re going to have some company soon.” 

~

The Bunker was quiet for once. The only time that happened anymore was in the wee hours of morning, before the crowds emerged from the labyrinth of rooms and made their way into the common areas. In a few short hours the atmosphere would shift into a controlled chaos, the tiled walls catching a dozen voices and duplicating them as they shot them back into the room. 

Y/N liked the quiet. It reminded her of old times. Not that she’d been around forever, just before the sudden influx of new residents to the Bunker. Still, the calm before the daily storm was comforting, and she always tried to wake up early now to get some time alone with the old building. 

A curious frown painted her face as Y/N stepped into the kitchen. The coffee pot was already on and brewing, meaning she was not the only one awake. The room was empty, however, and Y/N shrugged as she rubbed at her eyes and walked to the fridge. 

It wasn’t exactly easy to cook for upwards of twenty people, but she felt funny cooking for just the four of them, and Sam didn’t eat much anymore anyway. He’d rush through in about an hour and grab an apple before heading out. Beka would sit and eat with her some mornings, and Jack was always around sniffing for a snack, but it wasn’t the same without Dean. Nothing was.

As loud as the place was, it lacked a certain spark. Whatever laughter Dean always brought to the world was gone now, taken away by that evil bastard, along with Dean himself. Y/N knew they’d get him back. They had to. But it was taking too long and the leads were thinning day by day. He’d been too long gone and it was getting harder to remember what his laugh sounded like bouncing around the kitchen. 

She cracked two dozen eggs and got to work, eager to shake the blues away.

The smell of the bacon in the oven almost made her cry. 

The sound of company behind her made her jump. 

“Oh my god!” Y/N spun around, spatula in hand, and saw Beka at the coffee pot. “You scared the bejeezus out of me.” 

“Sorry.” It was a passing apology, and Beka didn’t even bother with eye contact. 

“You… OK?” 

“Mhm.” Beka kept her back to Y/N as she filled her silver travel mug with fresh coffee and pressed the lid into place. 

Y/N clicked her tongue at her friend’s standoffish behavior. Beka was far from a morning person, but she was at least always polite. 

“I’m making eggs,” she said cheerfully, hoping for a reaction, “and bacon. Want some?” 

Beka looked back over her shoulder and shook her head. “No, thanks.” 

Y/N gave up with a sigh and returned to the stove, poking at the pale yellow mountains of scrambled eggs with her spatula. 

“Hey, Y/N/N?” Beka called from the stairs. “You mind if I borrow your car? I’m like fifty-k overdue for an oil change.”

“That’s not good,” Y/N laughed. 

Beka did not. “Yeah, well, the mechanic’s been out of town.” 

Y/N’s laugh fell away. “He’ll be back soon,” she said, ever hopeful. 

She turned to see Beka look away; something in her eyes that Y/N did not recognise. She was distant, lost to her thoughts, not caring if Y/N were around or not. 

Beka licked her bottom lip and took a breath, pulling herself back into the moment. “So can I take your car or not?” 

“I guess,” Y/N shrugged and turned off the stove. “Where are you going? Want company?” 

“No.” 

She was gone before her voice faded. 

~

There was something poetic about driving as the sun rose. 

The sky to her left was dark, still littered with pinprick stars, but on her right, the sky was aglow with morning. Thin strips of dark gray clouds hung against a backdrop of pinks and yellows as the sun poked its head out from beyond the horizon. The line above her showed the break between light and dark.

Beka drove that line.

Her phone buzzed but she ignored it. The only people who would be calling her now would only be doing so to yell, and listening to them was pointless. 

She could almost picture Sam pacing around the Bunker halls, a tired hand scraping down over his bearded cheeks, eyes red from worry and exhaustion. Would he leave a message or grit his teeth and hold in a scream, trying to contain the urge to toss his phone into the tiles? 

Beka knew she was no expert at espionage, but years in the library and watching the guys work had taught her a few tricks. She wouldn’t be able to hide from him forever, but her tracks were covered, for now. 

Sam would be pissed, sure. Cas would probably clench his fists and scream at her, Jack would look to her with hopeless puppy eyes. Y/N…Y/N wouldn’t get it. No one would understand what she was doing, but it didn’t matter anymore. There were only two things that mattered, two people that mattered, and Beka was going to do what she could to help them. Even if it cost her everything. 

Texas was looming in the distance; just a few more hours to go. 

She was terrified but resolved, and the steering wheel bore her excess adrenaline; crescent moons decorating the leather where her nails dug deep. 

~

“Company…” Kelly whispered to herself. She felt cold all over, like ice when it’s just started to freeze. 

Beka. What has he done to Beka?

The ice flowing through Kelly’s veins quickly melted as seething anger began to take over. 

“You monster!” she hissed through tightly clamped teeth. 

Michael’s eyes darkened at her outburst, but Kelly wasn’t finished. “Let her go, you son of a bitch. Do what you want to me, but leave my friends alone!”

The Archangel’s lips twitched in amusement. “Let her go?” Michael echoed. “I’m not holding her. I’m not forcing her to do anything.” He crouched down to her level, the black metal bars splitting his face. “She came to me.”

Kelly’s slender fingers tightened their grip on the locked door of her prison. “Fuck. You.”

Michael’s head cocked, and Kelly didn’t miss the tic of his jaw - but her rage was building. 

It didn’t feel like she had control of her own body when she threw herself back, mustering all of her strength to kick at the metal door. 

The lock was released with dizzying speed, and before Kelly even had the chance to draw her leg back, Michael was wrenching the door open. She let out a piercing shriek as the Archangel grasped a fistful of her brown locks and jerked forward with a powerful strength, dragging her from her confinement. 

Michael effortlessly pulled Kelly to her feet, fingers painfully tight in her hair as she struggled against him. His eyes burned a blinding blue, a testament to his anger, and she found herself frozen in true terror. The crack of his big palm against her cheek bounced off the walls, and prickling heat bloomed across her skin as his hand left her. 

The powerful force of the slap made Kelly’s knees buckle and Michael released her as she crumpled at his feet.

She pressed her hand to her burning cheek as she slowly tilted her head up to his, and she could feel a warm trickle of blood roll over the plump curve of her lip. She whimpered at the icy glow of his gaze, and let her frightened tears slip down her heated face.

“Good,” Michael bit; the blue beginning to wane. “This is just where you belong; broken and obedient at my feet.” 

Kelly sucked in a shaky breath that pushed back out in a pathetic whisper. “Please.”

The Angel towered over her. “Please?” His stolen lips curled into a faint sneer. “What more could you beg me for? I have given you... everything.” Michael spread his hands and lifted his palms to Heaven. “I have come to save you, delivered you from your pathetic life, offered you a chance to serve at my side, and yet… you beg. For what? My mercy?” 

“For my freedom...for Beka’s freedom...for humanity. Please.” 

Michael’s laugh was deep, piercing. His teeth gnashed as rage bubbled up inside of him, breaking through his normally controlled facade. “Freedom? And what have you or any of your...pathetic species ever done with freedom? Humanity is broken, flawed...hopeless. You talk of wanting freedom as if you know what to do with it. You don’t deserve to be freed.”

A new strength swelled in Kelly’s chest. Pride for her kind maybe. “We are your Father’s creations. We were made in His likeness. There’s good in us. In all of us.” Her crimson-tinted lips curled in a defiant sneer. “We’re better than you.”

Kelly stood her ground even as his Grace swelled once more, pushing away every speck of green and burning bright. 

“Better than me,” he growled, lips shaking as he struggled to contain his fury.  
A new fear froze Kelly’s blood at the sensation of an invisible heat closing around her throat. She gasped against it, feeling his Grace wrap around her like thick fingers. She tried to claw at the phantom palm crushing her windpipe, but there was nothing there to fight. Her eyes bludged as Michael lifted her onto her knees; his display of power striking awe as much as fear inside of her. 

“You are nothing,” he seethed, dipping his chin to watch her struggle. “You are a parasite on this world.” 

Tighter and tighter the power squeezed until she was sure it was the end. As bright white painted the edges of her vision, Kelly gave in, relaxing into the inevitable, ready to accept her end. She looked up at Michael, her eyes bloodshot and empty. If this was how she was going out, she wanted one last look at biggest mistake of her life. 

Michael saw the defeat sparkle in her eyes, watched her break before him. As her pretty blue eyes began to roll back, he stopped himself, pulling his Grace back in and releasing her. 

Kelly crumbled to the floor as her lungs screamed, sucking in as much air as they could. Her arms could not hold her and she fell down, bruising her face against the hard, cold floor. 

Michael closed his eyes and dropped his shoulders, taking a moment to regain his composure. He didn’t want her dead, not just yet. 

“You foolish child.”

His voice pulled Kelly’s eyes open and her lashes fluttered against the dirty wood beneath her. She tried to sit, but her strength was gone, sapped dry by the fight and his attack. She whimpered as Michael bent to lift her, his big hands sneaking beneath her tiny body, arms hooking under her knees and around her shoulders. She fell against him, her forehead finding a resting place in the crook of his neck. 

“So much potential wasted on anger.” 

Kelly cried out as Michael shifted her in his arms, carrying her gently to the bathroom. She lifted a hand to steady herself, but she could not get it around his neck and it fell back down, limp against her own chest. 

“You will learn to obey me.” 

She closed her eyes against the harsh light of the bathroom, cringing as he set her down slowly onto the edge of the tub. 

“You will learn to like it.”

She looked up, shielding her eyes against the light to look into his face. 

“Or you will die.”

~

Beka cut the engine, the headlights briefly illuminating the large painted letters the small bakery’s sign before dying completely.

She released a heavy sigh before disengaging the seatbelt, alarms blaring in the back of her mind. This was beyond dangerous, meeting the Archangel alone like this, but Beka had a plan in motion, and she had to see it through.

The bell above the door jingled as she entered, and she let her eyes sweep over the quaint room. A crowd of people hovered around the counter, waiting in line for their takeaway treats, and a young girl with bushy pigtails pressed her nose to the glass display case trying to smell the cupcakes inside.

With a Hunter’s Gaze, she counted the civilians, something Dean had once taught her to do. She noted two exits and eight windows, three small cafe tables with moveable chairs, and a booth in the back corner with a view of the entire place. 

“Always have an exit strategy,” Dean had often told her. “If you’re going in, no matter where you’re going in, make sure you can get out. Fast.”

Beka had not been the Hunter that Dean had hoped she’d be, but she never forgot things like that. Her natural paranoia lead her to cling to his words, and a thousand spy novels under her belt had helped her carry them out. 

Once her preparatory sweep was complete and Beka had caught the eye of the perky blonde shop owner behind the counter, she stepped away from the door and made her way towards the booth in the back. 

Michael was already waiting for her. 

He watched with half a smirk as Beka had taken her survey, never letting her eyes meet his or show any signs that she was as nervous as he knew she was. But he could see it. He could hear her heart race as she walked slowly to his table. See the veins pulse quickly at her throat, the slight tremble of her right hand, the sweat begin to shine on her forehead. She was petrified and yet somehow utterly fearless as she came towards him, her gait steady, her eyes clear. She was just as intriguing to him as she’d been on every late night call, every online chat. Witty and sharp, funny yet deeply serious, nervous and easily flustered. She was every emotion at the same time some nights, and Michael could not fully wrap his mind around her. 

That would soon change. 

She had come to him, finally, and his plan was, for once, ahead of schedule.

Beka stopped by the head of his table and finally set her eyes upon him. She swallowed hard as a wave of panic flipped her stomach. Seeing his face after so long nearly knocked the breath from her lungs, but his eyes were wrong, the soul she knew and loved was not looking back at her when he tipped his chin in greeting. 

“This seat taken?” she asked, throwing a thumb to the empty bench. 

Michael smiled gently and nodded. “Please.” 

How strange, his voice. It hit her ears like a shockwave, deep and familiar yet laced with something she couldn’t describe. They had talked on the phone a few times, but seeing Dean’s lips move, watching the lines on his face crease, the muscles in his throat move, hearing that voice issue forth- it was altogether unsettling. 

Beka swiftly slid into the bench, brown eyes steadily trained on his stolen greens. Michael blinked at her, smirk unfaltering as he watched her shift herself into a comfortable position. 

“It’s good to finally meet you,” Michael smiled. “I hope the drive wasn’t too tiring.” 

“It was fine,” Beka answered with a clipped tone. 

Michael opened his mouth to speak again, but his lips froze as a red-headed waitress stopped at the edge of the table, slipping the order pad and pen from her black apron. 

“What can I get for ya? We got cream and lemon meringue on special.” Her voice was a high chirp, and it grated against Beka’s ears. 

Human and Angel both decided on apple pie and coffee, and it stung watching the entity wearing Dean Winchester devour the dessert. Beka felt a pang in her chest when Michael closed full lips around his fork, suddenly hit with déjà vu. 

How many diners had she frequented with the hunter, Sam too, discussing cases or reminiscing about hunts gone hilariously wrong? This was some kind of twisted parody of that.

“You seem...anxious,” Michael said, easing back into the stiff cushion of the bench. The Archangel had dulled Dean’s vibrant emerald eyes into a lifeless moss, but they still burned like coals as he bored them into her.

“No, I’m not anxious, I’m just…” Beka drew in a heavy breath. “It was a long drive. I’m sorry. I’m really happy to see you.” The Archangel gave her a plastic smile and she returned it, making sure it reached her soft eyes.

Michael leaned forward, pushed his crumb-scattered plate out of the way before setting his forearms on the table. 

“Rebekah…” The name sounded so wrong rolling off his tongue, sounded so wrong uttered in the low rumble of Dean’s voice. She couldn’t remember the hunter ever using her full name.

Beka’s eyes were locked on the Angel’s and she didn’t notice as he reached across the smooth surface of the table to brush warm fingertips over her knuckles. She sucked in a sharp breath, flinching at the touch, instinct jerking her hand away. She looked down to find Michael’s borrowed fingers still curled toward her; lax and searching. She let her eyes slip back to his, surprised to find a spark of hurt flash across them. 

Icy dread was swirling in her gut, but Beka had to regain her composure, had to play this right. 

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, licking her dry lips. “I just...this is all so new.” A closed-lipped smile blossomed across her face as she reached for him, her hand curving over the top of his.

A low smirk stretched Michael’s plush lips as he dipped his chin, looking at her from underneath his eyebrows. His thumb stroked across hers in tingling little trails as he held her gaze.

“Trust me, Rebekah. All you have to do... is trust me.” 

 

~

Y/N checked her phone again, just to make sure she hadn't missed its buzzing. Though, with it always tucked in her back pocket, there was almost no way to miss it.

She tapped the screen, swiped away a spam email notification, and sighed as she sent the cell back to its bed. 

Nothing from Beka. 

She sent about her day, helping where she could, but mostly staying out of the way. The Bunker was too crowded and she couldn't get a word in anywhere anyway. Besides, there were things to be done, little boring everyday tasks that others overlooked that somehow fell to her. 

She cleared beer bottles from ledges and swept the dried mud from the entryway. She stacked coffee mugs in the sink and set the dishes to soak. Cleared abandoned books from library tables and helped misaimed paper balls find the waste baskets. 

In between each task she checked her phone, shaking her head at Beka's silence before hammering out another, “where are you??” text. It wasn't like her to be gone all day without a peep, very odd that she'd left so abruptly that morning, even stranger that she seemed to have her phone off.

The running gag was that Beka's phone was glued to her left hand, you never saw her without it; it wouldn't have seemed right. 

So for her not to answer…

Something was up.

All around her there were faces, but none familiar. She hadn’t seen Sam all day, and Cas was a blur, swiftly coming and going with a flap of his trenchcoat. Y/N was worried but she had nowhere to turn, no one around to listen to her rambling, probably uncalled for concern. 

As she shuffled off to the kitchen to start a pot of soup, she tried one last time, this time dialing in lieu of a thousandth ignored text. 

It only rang twice. 

“Bek, hey. So…” Her voice echoed in the hall as she slowed to a mosey, kicking her sneakers nervously against the polished floor, making them squeak with each step. “Look, I know you’re avoiding me, but whatever you’re doing...I could help. I’m not an idiot. Something is up. Please, just…” Just what? “Let me know where you are. Or… at least, just let me know you’re OK. Please?”

She hung up without a goodbye and shook her head. Maybe it was time to say something. 

Y/N swiped her thumb again and opened a text message, about to shoot one off to Sam, when the phone vibrated twice against her palm. 

A notification from Beka lit the top of her screen but did not make Y/N feel any better.

“Stop.”

~

Beka hit send and then turned off her phone completely, watching as the screen faded to black. With an angry hand, she shoved the cell back into her pocket and sighed. 

“Is everything… alright?” Michael asked, tilting his head in question. His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked across the table and Beka shrugged it off. 

“It’s fine.” Hoping to end his inquiry, she looked out the window as she lifted the tall porcelain mug before her and downed the sugary dregs of her coffee. 

Michael pressed on, leaning forward to catch her eye. “Your friends are worried for you,” he said simply.

Beka smiled and looked up at him. He was right, they were. Sam was probably running around in circles while Y/N begged him not to pull his hair out. She cleared her throat and shook her head gently. 

“They needn’t be,” she told him, “I’m right where I’m meant to be.” 

Beka looked back at her hand covering his and gingerly pulled it away. “Hey,” she started, her voice unsure. “Can I...can I see Kelly?” 

Michael leaned back in his seat and smiled. “Of course.” 

They slid out of the booth together, and Beka paused, waiting as the Angel dropped a folded twenty on the table. An electric shiver slithered down her spine when Michael pressed a palm to the small of her back. She grit her teeth against it, determined not to let him get to her, but her knees jellied at his melting touch, and she suddenly found herself leaning into him as they strolled toward the exit. 

Beka had to fight the urge to wrap an arm around his waist, to breathe him in as they walked the short distance to the car. She had to remind herself that this wasn’t Dean, that the thing dwelling inside the hunter could turn her to dust with a simple snap of his fingers. She had to be cautious, had to be sharp.

If Beka wasn’t careful, Dean and Kelly could very well be lost to her forever.

~

Sam closed his eyes and shook his head quickly to clear his mind. There was too much going on, too many people needed his attention, too many fires were burning. He cringed as a bolt of pain struck between his eyes and he pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling another migraine coming on. 

“Wait, where is she?” 

Y/N hesitated, seeing the pain on his face. Last thing she wanted to do was give him something else to worry about, but Beka was in trouble, of that she had little doubt. 

“I don’t know,” she said mekely, “she asked to borrow my car this morning, and she’s been MIA all day and then…” Y/N pulled her phone out and opened her messages, scrolling as she held it out to Sam’s gaze. “Nothing all day. Then that.” 

Sam looked down at the single word reply and his shoulders fell. Beka was wordy. She used emojis when she wanted to be left alone, but ‘Stop’ and nothing else wasn’t exactly true to character. Something was awry. He cleared his throat and looked away. “She didn’t say where she was going? Nothing?”

“No.” 

“How could you just let her leave!” 

His voice boomed through the hallway and Y/N flinched. Her throat was tight when she replied, clenching her teeth to try and keep calm. 

“I’m not her babysitter, Sam. Beka’s a grown ass woman and sometimes she goes out by herself. What do you want me to do, put a tracker on her ankle?”

“She never just goes out by herself.” Sam dropped his chin. “Fuck.” His whisper was deep enough to get lost, but Y/N heard it just fine. 

“I’m sorry, Sam. I didn’t-”

Sam cut her off as he spun on his heel and took three steps away. He dialed Beka’s number quickly and held his breath as it went right to voicemail. “Shit. Find Cas,” he yelled over his shoulder, doubling back to add a meek, “please.”

They all met in the War Room, worried faces illuminated from beneath by the ever-glowing table. Castiel and Y/N hovered over Sam’s shoulder as he typed away at his laptop, every so often making a noise of aggravation. 

“Nothing?” Y/N asked, chewing on her thumbnail and peeking over Sam’s head at the screen. 

“No. The GPS is on her phone is off.”

“She never keeps it on,” Y/N said knowingly. 

Sam huffed and looked passed her to the pacing angel on his right. “Cas? Anything?” 

Castiel shook his head, still looking off to the left, listening. “She’s warded herself,” he said grimly. 

Y/N let her thumb go with a wet pop. “She knows how to do that?”

Cas narrowed his eyes at her. “Apparently so.” 

“Damn it.” Sam called them both back with his mumbled curse. “Traffic cams from Woodward, Oklahoma caught your license plate running a red light at 2:42, Y/N.” 

She perked up and leaned over him, hand next to the laptop as she squinted at the screen. “Well that’s good! Why the ‘damn it’?” 

Sam sighed heavily and sat back, waving a hand at the computer. “Because CCTV from around the same time shows the car left abandoned at a Gas ‘n Sip a few blocks away.”

Y/N stood back up. “So she ran the light and then switched cars?”

Sam nodded. “She ran the light on purpose.” 

“Why would she do that?” 

“To let us know she’s OK,” Sam said simply. “And to tell us to back off.” 

A silence fell, each tongue growing still as their minds reeled. 

Sam broke the nothingness, turning to Y/N. “She didn’t say… anything? No clues as to where she was going?” 

Y/N shook her head. 

“What about yesterday? The day before? Has she been acting weird?” 

“I don’t know.” Y/N shrugged.

Sam threw his hands up in agonized frustration and stood from his chair, almost knocking it backwards as he went. “How can you not know!”

“I don’t know!”

“She’s your best friend! How did you not know if she’s been acting strangely?”

Y/N’s annoyance level had reached its peak and she snapped. “She’s your friend too, Sam! Not that anyone would know it lately!”

 

Hazel eyes fluttered in shocked offense. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You haven’t exactly been around for anyone these last few weeks, Sam.” She didn’t mean to, but Y/N wagged a finger at him scoldingly. “You’re a fucking mess. Look at you! You don’t sleep, you don’t eat, you haven’t shaved in God knows how long. You’re gonna fall apart and you don’t even care.”

“I care!” 

“No, you don’t.” She crossed her arms with an air of finality and Sam scoffed. “Maybe if you were a little less… I don’t know, exhausted, you would know what’s going on around here.” 

Sam stammered, his brow creasing as he sneered down at Y/N. “So this is my fault?”

Castiel stepped in, throwing his hands up between the tense friends. “This is no one’s fault. We will find Beka and bring her home.” He smiled kindly at Y/N and then looked to Sam, his gaze firming up. “You should go rest.” 

Sam rolled his eyes “Cas-”

A firm hand pushed against Sam’s chest. “Go.”

Sam made his way down the curved halls, his mind in a fog, not paying attention to his route. He turned left instead of right and ended up at Beka’s door, not bothering to knock before stepping inside. 

The room was an organized mess, just like Beka. Everything had a place, but nothing was put away. Clean laundry was folded and neat but sat in piles on top of the dresser instead of within; her desk held a mountain of papers and scattered notepads, pens tucked everywhere but inside the pen caddy. 

The trashcan beneath the desk was amazingly empty, as none of the waste seemed to be able to make the trip down off the desk into it. A ball of wadded up notebook paper lay on the floor beside it, and Sam bent to scoop it up, finding the mess somewhat unacceptable. 

As he went to toss it into the can, Beka’s writing caught his eye, more specifically, the way her bubbled cursive spelled out his name.

Sam - I know you’re gonna try and stop me which is why I didn't tell you. I think I can bring him home. I found something 

There was no more to the note and half of the words were crossed out as if she’d changed her mind midway. 

“No… Bek.” 

Sam bit down hard on his bottom lip, his eyes closing as well, done. He fell down onto her empty bed, sitting on the edge, not caring about the messy nest of blankets. The pain in his head was getting worse, the constant pounding picking up speed and intensity. He let out a full breath and hunched over, shoving his hands into the mattress to hold himself steady. 

“Goddamnit!” 

As he moved his hand, wanting to bring it up to shield his aching eyes from the light for a brief moment of piece, his fingers against the hard edge of a book tucked underneath Beka’s pillow. His eyes shot open and he pulled the text from its cave, quickly scanning the title. 

“No...no.”

There was a tiny triangle of paper peeking out from the middle of the book and Sam ran his finger along the edges, carefully opening to the page she had left marked. 

“Fuck.” He stood up quickly, making sure to keep his finger in the book as it fell closed in his big hand. He hit the hallway at a run, boots keeping him from skidding into the turn as he raced back to the War Room. 

~

Michael held the screen door open as Beka stepped inside, eyes dancing about as she took note of the layout of the house. The living room was a bit dusty, and the carpeted stairs directly ahead could use a good vacuuming, but the place was otherwise tidy. Beka sighed as Michael stepped inside, closing the door behind him. 

“Nice place ya got here,” Beka teased, unable to stop herself. She ended with an awkward smile and swallowed hard, waiting for his reaction. Nerves were creeping up on her again, the scene she'd played on a loop in her head so close to coming true. Just a little longer…

The Archangel dropped his eyes to hers, a half smirk twisting his mouth. “This way,” he directed, flicking a finger toward the stairs. Beka stepped back, letting him take the lead. She counted each step as they ascended - it was a habit, something she always did out of some strange compulsion. Sometimes, back at the bunker, she’d count them out loud, more often than not prompting some teasing jab from Dean. The thought of him sent a twinge of pain through her chest, and looking up to see his body so casually infected by the evil angel pushed that pain towards anger.

All the way up, Beka braced herself. She wasn’t entirely sure what she’d find, but she knew it was going to be bad. She had been preparing herself for this, she knew the risks - but actually being there was like stepping into a oil painting of her worst nightmare. Every step was slow; she could feel every muscle in her legs as she walked, every fiber of her lungs as she pulled in each breath. Her entire body was pulsing with the moment, with nervous energy that crackled through her. 

Just a little further, she thought, following a few steps behind. Just take me to Kelly and we can end this…

The staircase seemed to go on forever, like it was reaching up into Heaven, but Beka knew better. She knew it was leading to Hell. 

Go faster you son of a bitch. I want this over with. 

Michael’s polished shoe hit the landing and Beka pulled in a tight breath, anxiety and fury twisting inside her gut. Michael lingered, not moving forward, causing Beka to slow her steps lest she run into his back. 

Go! What are you waiting for you motherfucking… 

She took another step. 

Goddamned evil…

Michael moved aside finally, turning slightly to allow her to slip passed him, but she was so wrapt in her thoughts she let out a deep growl as she stepped up beside him. 

“Piece of shit!”

Michael tipped his head, narrowing his eyes as they landed on her face. Beka froze instantly, realizing that her thoughts had trespassed out of her mouth and into the real world. She held her breath, afraid of what he might do, but Michael did nothing. He simply frowned. 

“What...did you say?”

The annoyance in his voice was clear; the crisp consonants lingered in the air like a poisonous gas and Beka pushed forward through it, mustering up all of her strength. So, she hadn’t meant to say it outloud, she had, and now was a good a time as any to bring this all to a head. 

“I said… you’re a… piece… of shh…” 

The words faltered on her tongue as Michael touched her hand. A gentle sweep of his fingers across the top of her knuckles broke her concentration. She looked down at their hands, slowly inhaling as a dizziness overtook her. She wobbled a bit on her feet and blinked, trying to clear her mind. 

“What…” Her voice was shaky, diluted by the fog. 

“Rebekah.” Michael called her name softly, letting it ring out and through her mind, pulling her eyes upwards to meet his. 

Something in the green caught her, some power she could not define cleared her thoughts, pushing away every drop of rage and replacing it with a calmness that she’d only ever found in her dreams. He held her there forever, just staring, pulling her closer like a magnet. 

“Breathe.” 

Her lips parted as he commanded her to take a breath, her body screaming as she obeyed. 

Michael smiled and released her, taking a step back and watching as her glassy eyes refocused. 

“You forget to breathe too often, my love. It’s not good for you.”

“I… um…” 

Michael licked his lips and nodded towards the hallway. “Shall we?” 

 

Despite their many late night conversations, Beka had not been able to get Michael to tell her anything about Kelly’s wellbeing other than that she was alive, and being cared for. Kelly had mentioned a cage, but Beka had assumed it was metaphorical. 

It was not. 

The cage was real and Kelly was curled up inside it, tucked into a corner diagonally across from the door. Her knees were pulled up to her chin, her hands beneath her cheek. Beka couldn’t see much, but she appeared to be clean, fully dressed and breathing. But her face was purple and black, a deep line of red cut into her bottom lip, and another, smaller gash above her eye.

Beka grit her teeth and felt whatever spell Michael had woven around her fade. Her anger returned, her purpose for being there reset itself firmly in her mind. She was there to save Kelly, to break her out of this Hell and get her to safety. 

And, if her plan worked, she could get Dean back too. 

She felt Michael move beside her and Beka swallowed down her fear. She had to play this right, wait for the perfect moment. 

“You see?” he said, stepping around Beka to wave a hand over the cage. “She’s alive. She’s fine.” 

Trying to keep her gaze relaxed, Beka forced a smile. “Thank you for letting me see her.”

Michael nodded in acknowledgement. “Of course.” 

The curl of his plump lips was desperately distracting and Beka struggled to look away. She had to get herself together, had to press on. 

She cleared her throat. “I...I’m sorry, could I have something to drink? I’m…” She coughed and rubbed at her throat. “A little dry.” 

Michael smiled more fully and nodded, accepting her request. He turned quickly and Beka listened to his footfalls disappear down the hall and fade as the staircase took him down. 

She rushed to the cage, dropping to her knees by Kelly’s side. 

“Kelly!” Her whisper was forceful, but Kelly did not stir. “Hey! Wake up damnit!” 

Beka stuck a finger through the cage and poked at Kelly’s arm until she woke. 

“Michael?” Kelly was groggy, blue eyes aflutter as she looked around for her Master. 

“No,” Beka hissed, shaking the cage a bit. “It’s me! Hey! Focus!”

Kelly sat up and turned to face her friend. “Beka?”

“Yes, damnit!”

The poor girl smiled, lost in a haze. “You came.”

“Of course I came,” Beka said, softening her voice. “I’m gonna get you out of here, OK? Are you alright? Can you walk? We’re gonna have to take it at a run. You with me?” 

“No.” Kelly stretched her arms out in front of her and shifted on the cold floor, getting comfortable. 

Beka sat back on her heels, shocked. “What? What do you mean no? You can’t walk?”

“No,” Kelly said again, this time in clarification. “I can walk. I just don’t want to.” Her voice was so chipper, so blindly happy that an icy chill made its way down Beka’s spine. 

“What are you talking about?” Confusion tightened Beka’s throat, frustration pushed tears into her eyes. 

“You shouldn’t have come,” Kelly told her honestly, her smile cemented and terrifying against the bruises that painted her face. 

Beka took a breath, closing her eyes against Kelly’s obvious insanity. “OK,” she whispered. “It’s OK. I’m gonna get you out of here.” 

Kelly’s eyes were huge when Beka looked back. “No,” she told her cheerfully. “You won’t.” 

“Whiskey?” 

Michael’s deep voice broke through all else and Beka jumped to her feet as he entered the room, holding out a cloudy glass of amber liquid for her. 

She stepped forward and breathed away her tears, smiling at the Archangel. “Thank you. My favorite.” 

“It’s not the...honey kind that you seem to prefer, but…” Michael shrugged slowly as Beka took the glass. 

“It’s fine,” she replied quickly, “thank you.” The whiskey burned and she took the pain gladly, hoping it would steel her nerves. 

“I’m pleased you’re finally here,” Michael said honestly, his eyes trailing her face, watching for her reaction. He was calm, too calm, and his gaze lifted the hairs on Beka’s neck. 

“Me too,” she whispered and knocked back the rest of the whiskey, holding it in her mouth for a long second before letting it go. She exhaled as she swallowed and met his eye, keeping her expression as soft as she could. “So,” she teased with a smile and held out the glass for him to take. 

“So.” Michael returned her smile and reached for the glass, his thumb brushing over hers purposely. 

She ignored the electric shockwave. 

She held her breath.

He turned to set the glass down on the desk. 

She attacked. 

Beka withdrew a shining crystal from her pocket and held it aloft in both hands as the spellbook had instructed her to do. She turned the point to aim at Michael as she summoned up every ounce of will hiding inside of her, every drop of faith, every molecule of power she possessed. As the empty glass hit the wooden desk, Beka recited the spell she had painstakingly carved into her mind. 

“Murifri nibm od!” 

Nothing happened, but she pressed on. 

“Oadriax chiso berita!” 

The Enochian felt wrong on her tongue, but she kept going, knowing that all her years in the Library and a lifetime of research had led up to this one moment and would not let her down. 

“Geh! Ip! Cures lap zir vohim!”

Beka gasped as a blinding white light erupted from the crystal and slammed into Michael, knocking him forward.

~

 

Sam was bouncing back and forth on each foot, shifting his weight as he watched Castiel read. His arms were crossed and he chewed on the nail of his right middle finger, wincing when he gnawed too far and hit the tender skin underneath. “Ow.”

Castiel sighed dramatically and set the book down on the table, his hands on either side. He hunched over the tome and shook his head at the faded black ink. “This is not good, Sam.” His deep voice was raw, harder than usual, as if the last few weeks were wearing on him as well.

Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Yeah, Cas, I know. What is it?” 

“A very powerful spell.” Blue eyes were dark with worry, his face creased and cracked. “Beka cannot work this kind of magic.”

From across the table, Y/N piped up. “She’s really good at magic.” It wasn’t helpful, but she felt she needed to add something. She was coming up empty handed at everything else she tried. 

“No, Y/N,” Cas said gently, falling down into the chair to his right. “This is… advanced spellwork. Far more complicated than anything she’s attempted before and…” He stopped, hanging his head, unable to deliver the worst of the news.

Sam stopped bouncing and stepped forward. “And what, Cas?”

A quick exhale dropped Castiel's chest and he looked up at Sam. “And...the translation from Enochian was incorrect.”

An invisible anvil settled on Sam chest and he sucked in a tiny breath to combat it. “OK. Maybe she realized it and...fixed it.” Frightened tears stung his eyes and he sniffed them back and away. “Beka is…” He cleared his throat to rid the last of the tears. “...Really good with words- languages. Maybe she caught the mistakes.”

Castiel nodded solemnly. “Even if she did, Sam… this spell was not meant for an archangel.”

~

Michael’s shoulders shook as he braced himself against the oak desk. Beka matched his tremble, almost vibrating with a mixture of hope and fear as she watched the Archangel succumb to the effects of the spell. She held her breath when he finally stilled, brown eyes wide as she watched him slowly turn to face her.

“Bek...” Dean was back, Beka could see it in his soft expression. He was panting, no doubt exhausted from the fight. She felt her chest tighten at the thought of just how long he’d fought and clawed inside his own head.

“Dean,” Beka breathed, a relieved whoosh of air pushing from her lungs. She ran to him, boots loudly rasping against the floor until she crashed against him. Her fingers scrunched into the fabric of his black sweater, and hot tears pooled in her eyes as she gazed up at the familiar face she missed so much.

“Dean, you gotta cast Michael out-”

“It’s not that simple, Bek,” the hunter panted,“I can’t just-”

“Yes! Yes, it is that simple!” Beka was frantic, voice a high screech, veins buzzing with adrenaline. “You can do it, Dean. This spell won’t hold him for long. Please!” 

Dean nodded, mouth twitching with uncertainty, and Beka’s lungs expanded with a paused breath as she waited for the expulsion.

She watched as he doubled over, his face screwing in pained concentration. His lips parted to reveal gnashed teeth, and his eyes were welded shut. “It - it’s not working!” His words tore from his lips, and his voice was raw with the struggle. Beka’s heart hammered wildly as she took in the scene before her...and then stopped completely.

Dean’s face smoothed, his grimace morphing into a chilling grin as he straightened back to his true height. Beka swallowed as his shoulders squared, and her blood iced when green eyes ignited to a burning blue. She cried out when he suddenly fisted her hair, pain blooming over her scalp as he sharply tugged back, tilting her face up to his.

“In fact,” Michael said, voice even. “It won’t work at all.”


	2. Rebekah's Story - Part Two

She screamed. She couldn’t help it. 

His grip was tight, fingers pressing into her scalp even as he tugged, the pain spreading like a web across her skull. It trickled down her spine like an ice bath until Beka could feel her arms going numb; Michael’s touch pushing against some nerve in her neck that sent warning signals throughout her body. 

Shut down. Run from the pain. 

Beka screamed and Michael sneered, dipping his chin to meet her eye line. His eyes were bright; Grace consuming every speck of green with blinding blue, and Beka struggled to look away. 

“Please!”

She hated herself for screaming, for begging; she had made it this far fueled by a tepid mix of pure stubbornness and borrowed fortitude, and to lose it now, to face certain death like some scared child was something she could neither abide nor avoid. 

Michael let out a sigh that had weight, more of a deep growl than an exhale, and Beka held her breath, waiting for the end. 

With his left hand fisted in her hair, his right rose to cradle her cheek, forcing her to hold still and look up at him at him as she died. Michael wanted to watch her soul depart, to see the exact millisecond when the darkness of her pupils took over and the russet iris went lifeless and dull. He wanted to savor it; a little sweet revenge for the games she’d been playing. 

Michael let his fingers tighten on her skin and he parted his lips, wanting to suck down her tearful cry. He sent out a wisp of Grace and she shut her eyes against the glow, making his teeth gnash in annoyance. 

“Look at me!”

His roar snapped her eyes open and Michael’s lips curled, ready to end the pathetic creature in his hands. He took one last look, deep into her eyes and the world spun around him, his mind drifting back to another realm. 

The wind was laced with smoke, dust spun around his boots but never settled. The sky was yellow with fires that burned forever; clouds made of earth and ash instead of rain. 

Michael landed atop the hill, gilded white wings spread wide, feathers still twitching from his flight. He looked out over the ruined landscape, dark eyes surveying his Angelic Army as it took out a rogue settlement just west of Reno. 

He felt it before he saw it. The air shifted just so, turning his face towards the wreckage of a barn. The dying sun sparked off of a metallic sphere and Michael watched as the bomb rolled to the middle of the field, detonating within seconds and taking out four of his soldiers. With their wings turned to coal, ashes stolen by the breeze, the rebels attacked, circling the remaining angels and using all manner of supernatural weapons to cause as much damage as possible. 

Michael’s most trusted, his confidant, Radueriel, was trapped amidst the scuffle. She was talented in strategy, an overseer of archives, but not a fighter. Michael had sent her on a reconnaissance mission, gravely miscalculating the danger. She had been spared from the blast, but was surrounded, and while she held her own, Radueriel was heavily outnumbered. 

Michael joined the fray, swooping in like a knight upon his steed, using his Grace to hold back the human scum that dared defy him. One by one, the mortals fell, Michael easily taking them down, but not without tragedy. 

Before he could reach her, Radueriel fell; brilliant brown eyes sparking violently before the Grace inside was gone. 

Michael pulled in a deep breath and shook himself, his Grace subsiding as he realized he was looking down into the same brown eyes all over again. Ghosts of home were forever nipping at his heels, but here was one, solid and corporeal, in his hands. 

“G-go ahead,” Beka gasped, pulling a final molecule of defiance from the depths of her being. “Just get it over with. Kill me.” 

Michael cocked his head and relaxed his hold, letting his fingers slip out from her hair, his palm fall from her cheek. He closed his eyes slowly and took a breath, calming himself and quickly rebuilding the wall that his memory had struck down. 

“Do it!” she yelled, in her fear not perceiving the subtle change in his posture or the dulling of his expression to mean that he was standing down. She was braced for death and ready to go down with a fight. “Go on!”

Michael regained his composure and set a cocky smirk upon his lips. Raising his chin to look down his nose at her, he laughed. “Oh, no, my dear. I’m going to do so much worse than that.” 

A shudder tore through the woman and Michael watched the pulse throb in her neck. 

Beka’s eyes flashed between both of his, terrified and searching for an out. “Fine,” she said in a hoarse whisper, trying to calm herself and find her courage. “Don’t kill me. Then…let Kelly go.” She nodded to the cage. “I’ll stay in your cage. Just… set her free.” 

Michael took a step back, watching carefully as Beka teetered without him there to catch her. He playfully imagined her attached to a string, a marionette waiting for his talented hand. 

“Why would I let her go?” he asked simply. “Kelly is very happy being my little... pet. Aren’t you?” 

He let his eyes drift slowly from Beka to the cage where Kelly was waiting patiently, watching the show. She was up on her knees, two tiny fingers hooked onto the horizontal bars that shadowed her face. 

“Yes, Sir!” she replied with a chipper smile. 

Green eyes returned to Beka, palms open and up in a subtle shrug. “See?” 

Beka shivered. “I don’t know what you did to her,” she said, tossing an accusatory finger at the Archangel, “but that is not happy.” 

Michael dropped his hands to settle at his sides. His eyes closed for a moment as a sigh of disappointment flowed from his lips. “Why can’t you trust in me?” he asked softly. “What have I ever done to you that’s caused this...fear and distrust?”

The absurdity of the entire situation topped with his question shook Beka to the core and a wildly inappropriate laugh escaped her chapped lips. “What? I… I don’t even know where to start.” She laughed again and crossed her arms, leaning towards him. “You’re wearing my friend for one. And…” An overly sarcastic nod towards Kelly. “You got another friend locked in a fucking dog cage.” 

Michael tilted his head, brows knitting in confusion. “Dean let me in...Kelly prayed. They both came to me willingly. As did you.”

Beka steeled as she narrowed her eyes at him. “I came to kill you.”

“No,” the Archangel rumbled with a curt shake of his head. One corner of his mouth tugged with a cool smirk.“You didn’t.”

“I did,” Beka insisted, a confident smile curling her own lips. “I’ve been playing you for weeks.”

Michael’s smile faded at her words, the olive of his eyes darkening into a deep jade. “You think I didn’t know?” He huffed a venomous laugh that was void of any semblance of humor. “You’re not that good of an actress, Rebekah.” The Angel’s lips again twisted into a sinister smirk as he dipped his chin. “I can see your heart. I’ve been in your mind.” His mouth went slack as his eyes dimmed into something hungry. “I have tasted your...desire. I know what you want…” Beka couldn’t breathe. Michael grinned. “And it’s not to kill me.” 

A pregnant pause settled between them and Beka’s voice was faint when she spoke again.

“You’re wrong.”

Michael laughed, ruddy lips pulling back to expose perfect ivory teeth. “So stubborn. So...human.” He bit his bottom lip as mossy eyes danced around her face. “Just give in to me. You know how...happy I can make you. I can take away your pain, your...worry. Everything. Just let go. Be with me.”

Beka swallowed and licked at her dry lips. She felt heavy and light-headed.

“No.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but her resolve was strong.

The Archangel simply blinked, then hummed as he brought a hand up to brush a strand of dark hair from Beka’s eyes. His fingertips burned her skin.

“We’ll see.” 

Her heart slowed like the tick of a time bomb as Michael leaned in, his eyes slowly falling to target her lips. A quick breath was held and Beka closed her eyes, hoping that if he was out of sight, the uncontrollable desire swirling inside of her would forget and leave. But he was so close, his breath so hot on her lips, his fingertips curled perfectly around her ear. 

The second stretched into eternity and Beka found herself slipping, her mind screaming for him to close the gap. She parted her lips gently and lifted them in offering.

“Michael…”

A clang of metal stole the moment as Kelly rattled the bars of her cage.

In an instant, Michael was gone, dropping to Kelly's side as Beka shivered with his departure.

The spell quickly faded and Beka shook her head to clear the remainder away. She had to fight this. Kelly was still trapped and Dean… at this point she wasn't sure if Dean was still alive or that whole thing had been a cruel joke played by Michael to confuse her. 

If it was, it had worked. 

“Hush now.” Michael smiled at his captive and stuck two fingers through the cage. Kelly immediately smiled and pressed her head against his hand, sighing as Michael pet her. 

Kelly quieted and sat back with a dreamy smile on her face, which was nothing short of horrid to Beka who watched on. As Michael dipped into his coat pocket, Beka began to wander, slowly inching towards the door. 

Michael withdrew a single chocolate kiss from his coat and held it out for Kelly to take, smiling in amusement as she grabbed it. “There's a good girl,” he mused, watching as she peeled away the shining wrapper and popped the treat between her lips.

Beka was confused by the display of obvious affection. “So,” she asked, taking stock of the room and the lack of weapons available. “Why Kelly, anyway? Why keep her around?”

Michael offered Kelly a final pat on the head. “She prayed the loudest.” It was, for him, a simple explanation, but Beka could not accept it. 

Anger rose in her throat like bile. “She would never pray to you.”

“But she did.” Michael stood then, rising to his feet with an ease that Dean no longer possessed. “She dreamt, she wrote, used all of her energy to call out to me over and over.” He turned to Beka with arms open and shrugged. “Her want was pure.”

“Ah.” Beka gave him a mocking smile as she nodded and took another step towards the door. “So you're just an ego fiend,” she laughed, “explains the blog.”

Michael smiled thoughtfully, stepping toward her. “The blog is...a means to an end.”

“You’re enjoying it,” Beka shot back. “Don’t deny it.”

“I deny nothing,” the Angel said, forehead creasing with perplexity. “I do enjoy it. So many…” His eyes lifted toward the ceiling as he searched for the right word. “Toys.”

“Toys?” Beka parroted, incredulous. 

“Toys,” Michael confirmed. “Humans. Women...” His smile was soft, his voice like silk as he spoke. “Throwing themselves at my feet every moment of the day. They think they’re playing a game...but they are giving themselves to me.” He sighed. “It is...enlivening.” 

“You’re sick,” Beka hissed.

“Come now, Rebekah,” Michael grinned, green eyes sparking with mirth. “You wouldn’t want to be one of my playthings?”

Heat curled in Beka’s stomach at his words and her breath caught in her throat. 

“Never,” she whispered.

“You lie.” Michael’s voice had a sharp edge to it, and she stiffened as he took a step closer.

Terrified as she was, Beka couldn’t break. She wouldn’t break. With the last fleck of confidence in her, she bared her teeth and spat, “Fuck. You.”

In a flash, he was on her again, breath meeting hers, big hand tight on the nape of her neck. His usually composed face trembled with agitation, and Beka held her tongue. 

“You,” he seethed, blunt nails curling into the pale flesh under her hair. “Need to be taught some...respect.”

~

Y/N's eyes grew wider with every scroll of her finger, each line she read making her heart race until she was sure it would explode. 

“Oh, no. No. No.” She chastised the screen, her friend, herself for not paying closer attention. “Goddamnit, Beka!”

Her fist hit the table as her anger bubbled and the splintering pain caught her by surprise. 

“Fuck!” The curse rang loud through her room and drifted into the hallway, quickly followed by the slap of her bare feet and another yell. “Sam!”

 

He wasn't asleep. He was just resting his eyes. Just being self indulgent and closing his strained eyes for two minutes while the world collapsed around him. Taking a selfish five minutes to sit in silence with his temple resting on his knuckles, his elbow on the hard desk. He wasn't asleep.

“Sam!”

Y/N's frantic scream ripped his eyes open and dragged him instantly from the cusp of sleep. He jumped from his spot and gasped, brain desperate for an anchor as he felt around for his gun. 

“Sam!” A little softer this time as Y/N ran into his bedroom, and Sam relaxed a fraction, realizing her scream was not out of need but excitement.

“What happened?” He was still disoriented, blinking wildly up at her as Y/N shoved her laptop in his face.

“Beka's in Texas,” she said with a proud smirk. 

“What? How do you know?”

“Ah…” She set the computer down before him, uncaring of the shuffled mess of papers he'd been pouring over before exhaustion tapped on his shoulder. “Well…” A few clicks and Y/N pulled up Beka’s blog. 

Sam squinted at the screen. “What the hell is this?”

“Her blog.” Y/N waved a dismissive hand and scrolled as Sam looked on. “You remember, she asked you if you cared she was writing stuff and you said no. I have one too.”

“You do?” 

“Well, it’s just… like… Chris Evans gifs and cat stuff…”

Sam’s forehead creased as he raised his eyebrows mockingly.

“Oh, shut up! Some of us need hobbies. Anyway… I haven’t been on in forever since we’ve been a little busy, but Beka is always on her blog, so I thought I’d look and… well… look!” She gestured frantically to the screen and Sam sighed, narrowing his eyes as the brightness made his head hurt. 

Sometime caught his eye and he leaned in, his index finger quickly finding the arrow keys and scrolling through Beka’s blog. 

“This isn’t...what? No.” He clicked through a hundred posts from over the last week, asks and answers, random reblogged things. It looked like a joke- someone roleplaying as Michael, and yet, some of it felt… “This isn’t real.” 

“Seriously?” Y/N popped a hip and hung her hand on it. “Look at it, Sam. Read between the lines.” 

He shook his head as he went through everything. “Holy shit.” 

“Yeah. And…” Y/N pulled the computer away and tapped the keys a few times, easily hacking into Beka’s account.

“How do you know her password?” 

“She’s my best friend,” Y/N scoffed. “And it’s Dean’s birthday. It wasn’t that hard to figure out. Here… read.”

Sam grabbed the laptop from her and held it up, hazel eyes growing wide and then narrowing with anger as he read through Beka’s private messages. For more than a week it seemed, she had gone back and forth with Michael, and Sam was in utter shock. They talked about nothing and everything, of missions and fate. He told her of his plans, she told him of her life. They talked all night, every night, and after a while, the messages took on a new form. There were lovesick messages intertwined with hopeful admissions of passion, mentions of dreams and Michael’s desires for her, of her hesitation and ultimate submission to him. Sam read on and on, unable to believe that she’d kept such a thing from him. 

As much as the public posts seemed like mere roleplaying, it was clear to Sam that the private talks were real. This was Michael. Beka had found him and not said a damn word about it. She’d been catfishing the very Archangel they’d been looking for and kept it all to herself. 

“Why would she do this?” Sam sat back in his seat, just to take a breath, and Y/N shrugged. “Wait, how do you know she’s in Texas?” 

Y/N sighed and took back the keyboard. “Strap in, Sam.” 

A little maneuvering of Tumblr brought her to another blog, and she tilted the screen for Sam. He sat forward and read through a month’s worth of Michael-centric posts as she explained. 

“This blog belongs to Kelly, whom I believe is being actually held captive by Michael at her home in Vernon, Texas.”

Sam lifted a brow towards her but kept scrolling. “Who’s Kelly?”

“Do you like, ever pay attention to anyone but Dean?” Y/N bit, exasperated and ignoring Sam’s eye roll. “Kelly is Beka’s old friend from college. They hunted together for like five years before she met you guys; she’s talked about her.”

Sam shrugged, clueless. “OK, so, Kelly’s a hunter in Texas and Michael kidnapped her?” 

“No!” Y/N sighed dramatically and rubbed her forehead. “Kelly’s retired. Something happened with her and Beka on a hunt… I don’t remember the details, but they split up and haven't really seen each other since. Beka didn’t like to talk about what happened, but I know she kept tabs on Kelly.” 

“So… OK.” Sam sat back and scratched at his beard. 

“You keeping up?” 

Sam scoffed. “Yes.” 

“OK, so… it seems like Michael went and made himself comfy at Kelly’s place and Beka found out and… ya know…”

“Snuck out in the middle of the night to confront a murderous archangel without telling anyone where she was going?” 

“In her defense… it was morning.” 

“She’s being an idiot.” 

“That’s not up for debate.” 

They stared at each other for a moment and then at the screen, each of them breathing deeply, preparing for what was next. 

“Meet ya at the car in twenty?” Y/N asked finally. 

Sam scrubbed a tired hand down his face and nodded. “Make it fifteen.”

~

Beka wobbled on her feet, still dizzy from the teleportation. She was no stranger to it, having known Cas for so long, but it still shook her to her bones. She rubbed her forehead, the press of Michael’s fingertips still warm and lingering on her skin.

Michael was cool and calm beside her while she whipped her head about, trying to make sense of her surroundings. 

They were in a chapel, that much she knew. A Catholic chapel from the looks of the framed paintings of biblical scenes and the large crucifix hanging against the pristine white wall. A priest knelt at the altar, head bowed, completely oblivious to the Angel and Hunter standing behind him. The room was silent save for the man’s murmured prayers and the soft pattering of rain against the stained glass windows.

Beka held her breath, trepidation twisting her gut as her mind reeled for an explanation to why Michael would bring her here.

The Archangel broke the silence by clearing his throat. The priest froze, slowly twisting around to to face the source of the sound. His eyes widened at the sight of his sudden visitors, but before he had a chance to speak, the deep rumble of Michael’s borrowed voice filled the room. 

“Father Mckenzie.” 

Beka’s eyes floated up to the Angel’s, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Yes?” The priest stiffly rose to his feet, a kind smile carving into his face. “How may I-”

The man sucked in a sharp gasp, terrified as Michael let his Grace brightly filter through his vessel’s eyes. 

“What are you?” His voice was a low, shaky whisper, and his complexion had noticeably paled. 

“Oh, you know me,” Michael said with a cool smirk, bright blue gaze fading back to green. “You’ve...preached about me. And my brothers.” 

“Y-you’re an Archangel.”

“Bingo. Michael. In case you were wondering.”

The priest fell to his knees, the thump loud against the hard floor. He brought his hands up, folding them tightly as he began to pray.

“No-no,” Michael protested, waving a hand at the gesture. “None of that. I only want to ask you a simple question.”

The man’s hands fell away, his hands frozen on the being before him. 

“Anything,” he breathed.

The atmosphere of the chapel thickened as Michael leaned forward, head dipped toward the wood floor. 

“What...do you want?”

“What? I don’t...I don’t understand.” The priest’s face was pulled in a firm expression of puzzlement, his eyes wide. 

“What do you want?” Michael repeated. “It’s a simple question, Father. It could be anything. What do you want most in the world?” 

There was a long pause as the godly man considered the Angel’s inquiry, and icy dread settled into Beka’s bones as she waited.

“Humbleness,” the man said. 

“Mmm,” Michael hummed, lips stretching in a tight smile. “This is why you donate to charities? To humble yourself?” 

“Of course,” the priest replied with a clipped nod. “All of us should.” The man smiled softly. “Sadly, modesty is no longer a valued trait in this day and time.” 

Michael grinned a cold, sinister grin, and Beka felt sick to her stomach. This wasn’t good. Something was about to happen. 

“So, you’re a humble man, hmm?” the Archangel asked. “You’re...modest?” 

“I am,” the man agreed. “I’m not perfect, of course, but...I do try to lead by example.” 

“And the woman you laid with last night? The woman you..bought. Was she an example?”

Something flickered across the priest’s face, but he quickly blinked it away. “I’m sorry, I don’t know-”

“But you do know.” Michael’s voice was chilling and his grin had not faltered. “How many women have you...made an example of?” The Angel’s eyes rolled back, lips twitching as he counted under his breath. “Six this week. “If I’m not mistaken.” 

Beka swallowed as she watched the man start to tremble, her heartbeat thundering in her ears.

“You’ve quite the appetite for flesh, Father Mckenzie,” Michael rumbled.

The priest was panting, true fear evident in his wild eyes. “Please,” he whimpered. “I’m only human...I’ve made mistakes-” 

“Yes,” Michael agreed. “You have. Thank you for your time...Father.” 

The Angel turned then, and Beka felt a sprout of relief deep in her chest. 

The hopeful feeling quickly dissipated. 

“Close your eyes,” Michael instructed, hard gaze briefly locking with hers.

“No, please - don’t!” Beka’s plea fell on deaf ears, and she quickly slapped both hands over tightly shut eyes just as Michael’s began to glow a scorching blue.

She could hear it, the sizzling heat as the Archangel burned the man alive - but the smell, the smell was the worst.

Silence fell over the room again in a matter of seconds, and Beka flinched when big hands closed around her forearms.

“It’s over, Rebekah. It’s done.” 

She let Michael pull her hands away, blinking rapidly to let her eyes readjust to the room. He turned her so that she was facing the mess left of the man, and bile immediately rose in her throat at the sight. 

The priest was nothing more than a...puddle.

Beka closed her eyes, swallowing hard against the putrid heat that pushed up from her stomach. “You… why...oh my god.” 

“God...has no power here. He left this to us to deal with.” 

“He was just a man!” she raged, spinning to face him again. “He was a good man!”

Michael was still, calmly watching her spin out. “Was he?”

She looked around, frantically searching for answers on the air. Her shoulders shook up and down, her hands reached for nothing. “I… He… He was a priest!”

“Rebekah.” Michael called to her gently, taking a step towards her, his fingertips brushing the hem of his coat. “I don’t have to tell you how corrupt much of the Church is. And you know better than most the kind of hypocrisy that has run rampant in this world.”

“No.” She turned away again, hands rising to cradle her pounding skull.

Michael ignored her attempt at walking away from his lesson and continued, matching each of her steps with one of his own. “The good Father, stole from the church coffers to pay for the woman he brought here. He drugged them with pills dissolved in sacramental wine, wine that he dedicated to the Lord daily, and laid with them on this...very floor.” 

Beka couldn’t help but look to him then, in disbelief and a need to hear the rest. Her heart was racing as fast as her thoughts, and Michael’s voice could always calm the rush. 

“Some would leave here bruised, some broken,” he went on, “all humiliated and used. All scareMd irreparably; body and mind.” He paused to let the last piece sink in, and Beka looked away, breathing heavy as she stared at the pile of charred clerics on the floor. “Now tell me, Rebekah, was he a good man?” 

She couldn’t answer. Her tongue was as useless as she had been while Michael murdered the priest. She stood by, listening as he went on, trying in vain to pull out a lie amidst his words.

“This man is not the exception, he is the rule.” Michael stepped up to the muck beside her, careful to skirt the bloody puddle and keep his shoes out of the mess. “All of creation is flawed like this man was. The lies, the...pain visited upon one another…” He took a deep breath as if his words upset him, as if humanity burned him in some way. “No other species in this world harms itself for pleasure...for gain.” He shook his head sadly. “Humans are evil, ruined things.” 

Beka shook her head, her eyes glued to the remains. “And you’re going to fix them?” she asked in a whisper. 

“I will,” he confirmed, turning at the waist to look at her. “I will save Mankind. You will help me.”

The certainty in his voice, the utter lack of questioning or offer made her angry. She turned away again, battling herself as well as him. “I can’t.” She stopped and let her head fall back, eyes lifting to an empty ceiling, to a God who wasn’t there. “You are so wrong.” Tears tightened her throat and she looked back at Michael. “People are inherently good. You’re confusing a few… bad apples with a dead orchard. It’s not like that.”

Michael nodded as he came towards her, accepting her analogy. “Does not one rotten apple spoil the entire basket?” he asked in honest debate. “The cancer always spreads.” 

Her voice was weak, a revenant whisper that echoed nonetheless in the cavernous room. “Cancer can be stopped, slowed.” 

“Exactly.” Michael smiled, a hint of excitement lighting his face. “I will stop it. You will help me.” 

It all seemed so simple when he spoke, but Beka could not accept it. She believed in the good of people, in their ability to make the right decisions, to be… good. All the bad she’d seen in her life never stopped her for long. There was always something good, always someone who could pull her back from the faltering ledge of disbelief. Sam had taught her that. Dean had taught her. People were good. Crazy, flawed, yes, but not hopeless. Not condemnable. 

But Michael wasn't too far from the other truth, and she knew it. She'd known many men like Father McKenzie. She had seen men of power say one thing and in the shadows do another. There was no hiding the plain facts that Michael laid out for her now; the simplicity of his plans. It was one thing to hear them, see his words flashing on a screen, but to see them...to feel them…

Her eyes burned with tears she refused to let go. Her body shook with a shiver so intense that it clattered her teeth against one another. Her breath was quick, chest tight. She was spinning into a panic, unable as contradicting thoughts battled in her mind, to pull up. 

The room began to spin and Beka held her head, clawing at her own cheeks as the walls became an impossible wave of moveable stone. “I can't...it's not...the whole...point...you…” 

Her jaw dropped suddenly as the next breath refused to come. Her eyes bulged and her mouth parched. Violent white began to paint her vision, but Michael pulled her back.

“Rebekah…” His voice sounded miles away but she heard it. It called to her again and she turned her eyes to meet his. “Breathe, my love.”

A warm hand cupped her cheek and Beka took that breath finally, sucking in a lungful of air and letting out a pathetic cry. A single tear escaped her left eye and Michael swept it away with a gentle pass of his fingers. 

“Please do not cry,” he whispered, earnestly. “This is a good thing. A new world will be born and you will be with me, by my side. Forever.” 

His smile was soft and kind but Beka froze in his gaze. She had seen that smile a thousand times before but it was wrong. The blank intensity of his stare was wrong. Everything was just… wrong. 

“Let go of your fear and take the first step with me.” Michael held both cheeks now, softly cradling her face as she twisted inside. “You understand,” he insisted. “I know you do.” 

Beka could feel another wave of anxiety eroding her thoughts and she stiffened against him. “Let me go.” 

Michael's smile fell and contorted into a disappointed line. The crease between his eyes deepend and he dropped his hands, hurt by her words. 

“I am not keeping you here,” he said sadly. “You may leave me whenever you wish.” 

She pulled away quickly, boots echoing on the stone floor as she ran to the door. Before she pulled it open, a pang of regret struck her heart and she looked back over her shoulder. “I...I just need to be alone for a bit. I’m sorry.” 

Michael nodded solemnly and watched her leave. He had no fear of her running off, no worry that she would not return. He knew he had her. She belonged to him even before tonight, before they’d met face to face. This was all just... sealing the deal. 

~

Sam’s grip was firm but his hands still slipped from the wheel. Every few miles he would drop them to his jeans and wipe the sweat away with a disgusted grimace. Maybe it was nerves, the thought of finally confronting Michael after all these weeks of searching certainly had his stomach in knots, but it was also the utter uncertainty of what they were walking into. 

Beka’s messages, her behaviour, her posts, they were all incredibly strange. She wasn’t herself when she was talking to Michael. It was almost as if he had reached through the computer screen and doused her with a love potion. On the other hand, she could have been pretending, acting the part to draw him in, gain his trust, and then lure him out of hiding. Sam wasn’t sure which was it was, but either direction had its potholes and detours. Beka was stubborn, painfully so, and once she had it in her mind to do something, there was only one person who could usually talk her out of it, and Dean wasn’t exactly on call anymore. 

Sam almost hoped she’d been hit by a Grace-induced love spell. At least that they could remedy. Pure stubbornness and a reluctance to ever ask for help, even in life or death situations made for a hard combo to combat. 

Castiel noticed Sam’s shaking knee and leaned towards him a bit, the Impala’s leather bench squeaking under the shifting weight. “We will bring her home, Sam.” His voice was low and gruff, and Y/N’s head popped up in the backseat, pulled from her sleepy haze. 

Teeth scraped across a tense bottom lip. “We don’t know what we’re walking into, Cas.” Sam sighed and trained his eyes on the road lest they see Cas’s worry. “If she’s even alive.”

Y/N sat forward and inserted herself into the front seat, a floating heat lit by passing streetlights. “She’s alive.” Her faith was secure. 

Cas looked back at Y/N, his lips turning downwards. “Y/N… it is possible that Michael killed her on sight.” 

Tears threatened, but Y/N held firm. “No. She’s fine. She knew what she was doing when she walked in there and I know she will walk back out.” 

Sam sighed and spared a glance over his shoulder. “Y/N/N…” 

“No! She is fine! We’re just going to pick her up. Like her car broken down. Or...she got a flat tire. She… lost her phone and can’t get an Uber. She…” 

“Was an idiot and ran off to fight Michael without telling anyone?” Sam tried to continue in jest but anger and worry clouded his voice, lifting it into a full shout by the end. Annoyed with himself and wanting the conversation to end, he slammed his palm against the steering wheel and huffed. 

Y/N sank back into the shadows and Cas turned back to his window. 

With his heart pounding and a new headache springing to life, Sam pushed down hard on the gas, willing the old Chevy to sprout wings and take them to Texas faster. 

No such luck. 

After a mile, the windshield was splattered with a heavy mist as God pulled a blanket of clouds over their heads. They were driving into the rain. 

They were driving into a storm. 

~

The air was cool after the rain. Nothing like the chilly nighttime air of home but it felt good. It was a refreshing change of atmosphere from the heat and the stench of the chapel. 

Beka needed to think. Her mind was still whirring from the existential discussion she’d just shared with the Archangel. The ground was still wet from the evening’s shower, street lights reflected in the small puddles collected on the sidewalk. 

Her boot sloshed through a tiny pool as she rounded the corner to the alley. If she’d been paying attention, she would have caught the mirrored image of a figure silently swooping in behind her as she ventured into the quiet dark.

Beka’s scream was too late as a gloved hand clamped over her mouth, stifling any plea for help. Rough stone bit into her back as she was roughly shoved against the side of the church. She blinked, heart pounding, straining to make out the face of her attacker. He wore a ski mask, only the stranger’s dark eyes and thin lips peeking through the holes of the black fabric. 

A flash of steel glinting under a nearby street light caught Beka’s eye, causing fresh fear to spread over her scalp and trickle down her back. The knife pressed against her throat, just shy of breaking the skin. 

“Cash,” a low voice demanded. “All of it.” 

Beka nodded frantically, slipping a hand into the front pocket of her jeans. She wasn’t much of a fighter, her true skills as a hunter lying in research, but she wasn’t going to be brought down by a common mugger. Beka used all of her strength to bring her knee up, hard between the criminal’s legs. The move granted her freedom, the man’s hands leaving her as he doubled over in pain. 

Her heart threatened to burst as she took off in a sprint, and the sound of her own boots against asphalt drowned out the stranger’s second attack.

The air was violently knocked from Beka’s lungs as she was thrown to the ground and her head cracked painfully against the graveled floor, blinding stars whiting out her vision. 

“Fuckin’ bitch,” the man growled, knife tightly clutched in his fist. 

The pain was white-hot as the cold steel plunged into Beka’s stomach. She could hear the sickening wet sound the weapon made as her attacker pulled it free, and both hands immediately flew to the gushing wound as the stranger ran off into the night.

Beka used all of her weakening strength to press against the gaping hole in her belly, and her eyes drifted up to the towering steeple of the church. Michael’s words echoed in her head as warm blood sluiced over her knuckles. 

Humans are evil, ruined things.

It started to rain then, cool wet mingling with the hot tears slipping down her cheeks. Her eyesight was fading, but Beka could still see the glisten of the building storm clinging to the stained glass windows.

Black was framing her vision like a vignette, and her eyes were just beginning to softly flutter closed when she saw him.

The press of his palm against her clammy forehead was warm, and the Grace flooding her veins even warmer. Her skin itched for just a moment as the open wound on her stomach sealed back into place. 

Strong hands helped her to her feet, and she clung to him like the literal lifeline he was. 

The Archangel Michael. Her savior.

 

~

There was a time when people prayed to him daily.

‘Saint Michael, defend us in battle! Cleanse the earth of all evil that we may be closer to our Heavenly Father.’

A time when their knees bore the weight of their bodies pressing down into hard floors and benches as they beat their breasts in supplication to him. 

‘Oh, glorious prince, Saint Michael! Chief and commander of the heavenly hosts, guardian of souls, vanquisher of rebel spirits, hear our prayers! Save us from all evil!’

He was worshiped.

He was feared.

He was loved.

But somewhere, amidst the rise of modern industry and the glow of technology, humans had turned away from him. Away from the Church, away from God.

They knew the Commandments and they willfully disobeyed, bragging on their Twitters about how they had broken the rules. They skirted the laws of man, utterly rebelled against the laws of Heaven, and openly rejoiced about their wicked ways. They built shrines on their blogs to the filth that excited them; they joked about adultery, waged hate wars born from jealousy, and even attempted to silently cause warm to others through a tiny, gray face. 

Michael had seen it happen on his world, and here, across the dimensions, so far from home, he saw it again.

A mere week on the internet had sealed Mankind's fate. There would be no saving most of them. Their souls were already singed by the kindling of Hell's fire within them, all earmarked for damnation. 

His mission was the same as it had always been. He had been created by this Father to rid the world of evil, to defend the righteous, to battle Satan and all of his minions so that the worthy could be saved.

His mission had not changed, it had simply evolved, expanded. A new, better plan for a new, better world. 

He would not be stopped.

It was his purpose, his destiny.

And it was hers to stand by his side.

~

Death had retreated; her pain was gone.

Beka pulled away just an inch, just far enough to look up into his face.

“You saved me.” 

She needed affirmation, something to pull her from shock back into reality. 

Michael's arms wrapped around her, firm yet gentle, pulling her close as she began to tremble. She let him guide her to rest against him, her cheek pressed to the wool of his rain dampened sweater. She closed her eyes as his palm lay on the back of her head, keeping her still.

“I will always save you. You are my Chosen. My Rebekah.”

His embrace was warm but she was chilled to the core, shivering as the weight of the night settled upon her.

“Why?” she asked suddenly, her tongue bypassing her brain and running amuck. “Why me? Why did you choose me?” Tears churned in her chest and began their climb.

Michael's arms tightened around her. “You know why. I've told you.”

Her heart ached. Confusion swirled once more, circling like seagulls above a cracker of doubt.

“Tell me again,” she pleaded in a whisper.

He ran a hand down over her head, smoothing down the hair that had gone wild in the attack. His fingers closed gently at the nape of her neck and he squeezed, a gesture of reassurance laced with possession. 

“You're strong. Full of hope but not blinded by it. Your soul is bright and others are drawn to it. You can help invoke change, lead others to our cause.”

She struggled to understand, burrowing her face into his chest to hide from the questions that tore through her mind; the self doubt, uncertainty. “I don't think that's true. I'm nothing special.”

Michael tilted his neck and lay a cheek on her head, drawing her closer. “It is true, my love. I have looked into your heart. I see...everything. And I know you understand.”

“You don't need help,” she whispered, breathing him in, filling herself with his warmth while she could. 

“No,” Michael sighed. “But I want it.” 

His grip on her eased and Beka stood up straight, looking up to find his face pained. 

“I want help,” he said again. “I want someone who understands. Someone who, as you would say… gets it.”

Beka chewed her lip and shook her head, unsure. “And you think I get it?”

Michael's features softened and he took a small step forward. “Oh, I know you do.”

She fell back, slowly mirroring his steps, waiting to see what he was up to. 

“I know you understand,” he repeated, his eyes dark once more, his subtle smirk set. “I know you understood when I killed that corrupt old man. I know you understood when that bum ripped a hole in your gut. I know you felt it when your soul pulled away, when I… retrieved it. I know you...get it.” 

Beka swallowed hard and halted her retreat. Her eyes flew across his face and for the first time she saw passed the mask, she saw passed Dean’s stolen face, she saw Him. “I do.” The words broke free and her shoulders settled, her heart finding a steady rhythm at last. It all made sense, finally. This was fate.

Michael took a final step towards her, leaving only inches between them. He lifted his hand to cup her cheek, curling his fingers around her ear, dragging his thumb over the soft pink flesh of her plump bottom lip. She leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering as she gave in. 

“So tell me, Rebekah, now that you understand…” He leaned close, green eyes wide as he watched her lips twitch, calling to him. “What...do you...want?”

A deep breath filled her lungs and Beka’s mind was clear for the first time in her life. There was no more panic, no more worry, no question at all. Just an answer. Simple, pure, true. She exhaled slowly and opened her eyes, looking up at her Angel. 

“You.”

Michael’s lip curled with a victorious smile. “Then take...what you want.”

There was only a sliver of space between them, and Beka quickly closed the gap, pressing her full lips against his. The kiss was hungry; desperate - and she felt like she couldn’t taste enough of him.

The Angel began to walk her backwards, and she let him, sighing into his mouth as he backed her against the same stone wall that her would-be killer had pressed her against mere moments before. Beka looped her arms around Michael’s neck as he licked into her mouth, his hands roughly squeezing at her breasts, pulling visceral moans from the base of her throat.

She yelped as he effortlessly flipped her around, her chest and cheek flush against rain-slick stone. Heat gathered in her belly at the sensation of blunt teeth scraping at her neck, and her eyes rolled back in her skull as Michael’s fingers deftly pulled her jeans open, dipping a hand underneath the elastic barrier of her panties.

There was a hard lump pressed against her ass as thick fingers easily slid through her slick folds.

“Wait,” Beka gasped. “N-not here. Please.” She took a calming breath. “Take me somewhere.”

Michael’s stolen lips brushed against her ear as he spoke, and his voice was thunder-deep. 

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

 

Beka blinked at her new surroundings, her stomach completing it’s last flip at the sudden change of location. 

It was the most exquisite hotel room she’d ever seen with its large windows that took up the entire wall, allowing for a breathtaking view of the twinkling city lights of the night skyline. The king size bed was neatly made, a plush ottoman sitting at its foot. 

“Where are we?” Beka breathed. 

Michael stepped toward her, lifting a hand to cup her cheek. 

“Does it matter?”

Her reply was silent but honest. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore, only being with him.

Beka pressed up on her toes to try and kiss him again, to restart the scene from the alley, but Michael pulled away gently. His fingers fell from her cheek to grab her hand and he smiled. “May I show you something?” 

She nodded and let him lead her to the big windows, stepping up until her toes touched glass.

Midnight was upon them and the city was quiet, streets empty from polluting cars, sidewalks clear of crowds. Lights were on, but they were soothing from this height, like looking down upon the night sky, a dizzying reversal that made Beka’s heart race as she pressed her forehead to the window. 

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. 

“I like the view,” he said with an amused sigh. “The world is peaceful at night, clean, calm. As it should be.” 

Beka couldn’t disagree. The rain had washed the city clean and it glinted against the black sky, a hundred thousand stars lighting the night. 

But those were not stars, not really. The lights were lights from inside homes, skyscrapers filled with people, hundreds of thousands of people sleeping below them, all in danger. 

“You’re going to murder them all, aren’t you?” She let it out in a whisper that fogged up the glass. It wasn’t accusatory or hateful, merely a question. She had to know what she had signed up for. 

Michael stood behind her, looking out upon the world he had given himself charge of. “Most will perish, yes.” 

She looked up at his reflection, at the resolve in his eyes, the absolute surety as he spoke. 

“This city... will burn. But it is from the ashes that the righteous will rise.” 

His fingertips lingered above her shoulder, and she turned slowly, ready to give in to him, to everything. 

She pressed her palm to his chest and slid it upwards, tickling his collar with her fingertips. Their eyes met and she let out a sigh. “Kiss me.” 

Michael broke their gaze as he dipped his chin, and Beka’s blood ignited as his warm lips pressed against hers. His hands found purchase on her hips, and she sighed into his mouth as their tongues slid against each other’s. 

Beka didn’t realize they were moving until the backs of her knees bumped against the edge of the bed. The mattress was soft under her back as the Angel blanketed himself over her, trapping her underneath his heavy bulk. 

Michael’s lips were hungry as they sucked and pulled at hers, and Beka was impatient herself, her fingers desperately clawing at his sweater to rid him of it. He obliged, and within seconds they were both naked, pressed skin to skin. 

Beka was panting by the time Michael’s lips reached her chest, the plush cushions of them ghosting across her heated skin. The hot weight of his cock was delicious against her, the shaft grinding perfectly against her clit.

She was nearly vibrating with arousal, her cunt aching in desperation. “Please...” she begged, her lust-blown pupils eclipsing the rich brown of her eyes. “Please...I need you.” 

The Archangel halted his movements, hitching himself up on his forearms to bore dark green eyes into her. 

“Pray to me.” 

Liquid heat hurtled through her veins at his command, and Beka had to take a moment to just breathe. “Please, Michael,” she rasped. “Take me...take what’s yours. Take what’s always belonged to you.” 

A slow grin blossomed across Michael’s face, and Beka gasped as he shifted to press the warm head of his cock against her soaked entrance. 

With a powerful snap of his hips, the Angel was fully seated inside her, and Beka’s jaw dropped in a silent scream at the delicious stretch, her fingertips denting into the smooth skin of his back. 

His eyes were unblinking as he began to thrust, fast and hard, and her eyes began to fall out of focus with the burning pleasure of it all. Nothing else existed as Michael ferociously pumped into her, and his voice sounded distant as he called to her.

“Rebekah...Rebekah, look at me.” Everything was fuzzy, staticky…

Until her eyes reset on his. The luminous blue crystals of his eyes were sharp as they blazed into hers, the only clarity she needed as he fucked her apart. 

Michael’s face was set in a cold sneer as he watched her crumble underneath him, as he watched her disintegrate under his power. 

Just like the world would.

Beka’s shrieks of pleasure were piercing as he claimed her; mind, body, and soul.

“Do you give yourself to me?” Michael asked, his voice even despite his exertion.

“Yes! Fuck! Yes, Michael!” Her voice was raw as she screamed her submission, and her fingernails etched little crescent moons into his shoulders as she clenched up, clinging to her savior as her orgasm rippled through her.

Michael came soon after, biting into her shoulder as he shook with his own climax. He smoothed her damp hair out of her eyes, his own gaze back to a calming green as he waited for her breathing to settle.

“You’re mine now, Rebekah. My Chosen.” His voice was deep and rich, soaking into the marrow of her bones.

A dreamy smile stretched her lips. “Yours, Sir. Always.”

~

She drifted for a while, stuck in a haze of bliss, unable to move a muscle save for her eyes that followed Michael around the room. 

How strange, she thought, to watch him like this. He was naked still, body much leaner than she remembered Dean ever being; the shadow on his collarbone a little darker, his stomach more defined. But it was entirely not Dean. He held himself differently, moved in deliberate and clipped ways. It was not Dean. 

And Rebekah did not care. 

He dressed slowly, pulling on each layer of fabric as if he were mad at it, as if the very act of dressing disgusted him. However, he was not without a sense of vanity, she realized, for Michael stared at his own reflection in the dark window, making sure the lines of his slacks were in order, the collar of his wool sweater in place. He seemed to enjoy the body he had acquired and carefully adjusted his clothing to accentuate it. 

Michael ran his fingers through his hair and caught her eye in the glass. 

She smiled but he pulled his gaze away.

“Get dressed.” 

She sat up quickly and reached for her clothes, collecting the pile to sort on the bed between her legs. While her jeans were airborne, her phone slipped free of the back pocket and landed with a muted thud on the carpet. 

Rebekah retrieved it and tapped the screen out of habit. Fourteen missed calls and twenty-seven texts. She chewed absentmindedly at the corner of her mouth as she opened the screen and went for a scroll. She deleted the calls from Y/N and Cas, shooing away their voicemail notifications, and took a peek at their texts. 

The last, from Sam, caught her eye. 

‘Bek- CALL ME. please. We’re coming to get you’

She cocked her head at his words and turned the screen in her had before holding it up and out towards Michael. He saw the glow in the window and turned slowly, easily reading the tiny words from across the room. 

His lips fell into a tight line and he nodded. 

“Let them come.”

~

They parked a few blocks away, though they knew it wouldn't matter. If Michael was there, if they had truly tracked him down, he would know they were coming, roaring Impala or not. 

Guns tucked in waistbands, angel blades hidden but ready, the trio shared a silent moment over the Impala’s hood, each nodding their readiness. 

Puddles broke beneath Sam’s boots as he lead them to Kelly’s house. Y/N had tracked her down easily and their surveillance of the surrounding area had shown Michael coming and going from this spot for the last two weeks. He kept no schedule, but he always returned, every ten hours or so, but Kelly had not been seen since his first arrival. 

They didn’t know what they were in for, but Sam was always prepared. Prepared or stupid, he was never really sure. Brave, he liked to think, but it was probably stupidity that pushed him forward tonight. 

There was no way to prepare for this, to come face to face with the monster that had stolen his brother. 

The house was dark, save for a light at the top of the stairs. Three pairs of boots silently climbed the thirteen steps to the landing, weapons drawn, breaths steady. 

Once they’d reached the narrow hallway, Sam waved a hand, gesturing for Y/N and Cas to stay behind as they crept toward the sliver of yellow light filtering from around the corner just ahead. 

The wooden door had been left ajar, and Sam stretched his neck to survey what little he could see of the room. 

There was a window on the far wall, blinds drawn, and he could just make out wooden bedpost a couple of feet in front of it. Sam strained his ears, but there were no sounds. He turned then, the index finger of his free hand pressed to his lips in warning to the hunters behind him. 

Breaths were held as Sam pushed the door wide, the air thick with dread. There was a chorus of relieved exhales at the sight of the cage, Kelly’s small body tightly curled up against its floor. 

“Oh my god…” Y/N breathed, rushing toward the kennel. She slipped the lock pick set from her back pocket, making quick work of the padlock before wrenching the small door open. 

Kelly stirred at the noise, raising up to rub the sleep from her eyes. 

“Hey, Kelly…” Y/N greeted, careful to keep her voice soft. She winced at the sight of the poor girl. Her face was deeply bruised, and two angry cuts on her bottom lip and above her left eye were just beginning to scab over. “You’re gonna be okay,” Y/N assured her. “Everything’s okay. You’re safe now.” 

Kelly’s eyes were pained, but Y/N could see a faint glimmer of hope bloom in the deep blue of her irises. “Safe?” she croaked, her voice gruff from nonuse. 

“Ye-”

A sound at the door interrupted the rescue, and she looked up just in time to see her best friend standing at the entrance of the room. Beka wasn’t alone. 

“Michael,” Y/N hissed, spitting the name out like acid. 

The Archangel smiled, stepping in front of his new companion. “Y/N…” Michael’s eyes were hard as steel as he smirked down at her. “I see you’ve found my pet.” 

Y/N had been too distracted with Michael and her friend’s arrival to see the snarl curl Kelly’s lips, and before she could stop it, the captive was launching herself from the cage, knocking the hunter to her back. She tried to throw her off, even managed to get a firm hold of her arms, but then everything went dark as Kelly’s forehead violently smashed against hers. 

The hunter-turned-prisoner laughed maniacally as she rolled off Y/N’s motionless body, her wild eyes gazing up Michael. 

“I did it, Master! Did you see it? Did you see what I did for you?!” 

“I saw,” the Angel smiled, crouching down to stroke her hair. “Very good girl…”

Kelly giggled, eyes wild as she soaked up Michael’s praise.  
“You son of a bitch,” Cas growled, blue eyes clouded with building rage as he took a threatening step toward the Archangel. 

Michael’s smile was steady as he rose back to his height. “Picking up my vessel’s vocabulary, I see,” he quipped, eyes shining with amusement. “You’re becoming one of them. You’re becoming...human.” His smile fell as his eyes darkened. “You can burn with them.”

A roar erupted from Castiel’s chest as his anger crested in the form of a burning blue stare. Angel blade, clutched in his right fist, he surged himself forward-

But Michael was quick, easily blocking the blow and wrenching the useless weapon from the lower-level Angel’s grip. The crunch of Michael’s fist against Castiel’s jaw resounded through the room, the blow effectively stunning him, buckling his knees. 

It was all happening so quickly that Sam didn’t know where to look. His gun was useless, he realized soon, unless he wanted to risk shooting one of the girls. As he moved to stow it away, Beka came towards him, walking with purpose. Her hands were empty, and her face was set in a hard expression, one Sam had never seen on her before. 

“You need to leave, Sam,” she said simply, stopping less than a foot away. Her eyes were dark in the broken light, almost black; lifeless and without care. 

He exhaled heavily and shook his head, his eyes twitching between Beka and the fight behind her. 

“What?” His shoulders hunched and he reached for her, locking his big hands around her upper arms. “Bek, what happened to you?”

She smiled as memory washed over her, her eyes rolling for a split second as she took a deep breath. “Everything.” 

Sam’s chest was heaving, his mind racing. He looked down at his friend and leaned closer, whispering even though he knew Michael could hear. The Archangel was still occupied with his opponent, beating Castiel to a pulp across the room. A river of blood flowed across the hardwood floor and Sam feared the end was nigh. 

“Beka, please, listen to me,” Sam begged, “Cas and I will hold him off, you grab Kelly and Y/N, and go.” He paused to look over at Y/N who was out cold, crimson painting her face, nose to sternum. “It’s all gonna be OK. I promise. Just go.” 

Beka cocked her head and frowned. “It’s not, Sam. You shouldn’t have come.”

“What?” 

As his brows knit in confusion, Beka attacked, bringing her arms up quickly to break his hold. While he stumbled, shocked by her movements, she grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down as fast as she could while bringing her knee up high, clipping him just below the ribs. 

Sam let out a pained moan and doubled over, clutching his side, in shock and hurt. He looked up at the exact wrong moment and took an elbow to the face, letting out a clipped roar as he felt his cheek bone crack. He called her name, held his hands up in surrender, but she paid him no mind, bringing her fist down against his skull again and again. 

She wasn’t strong enough to do much and she tired quickly, the time between her blows growing longer with each strike. Finally, Sam caught a break and grabbed her arm, twisting it as he stood and spinning her around, pinning her arm behind her back. 

Beka let out a frustrated scream, and in that instant, the battle was over. 

Michael’s eyes burned bright as he looked to his Chosen. He left Castiel broken at his feet and took a step towards Sam, warning with his deep growl to let her go. 

Sam’s eyes were huge as Michael came near, his quick exhales tickling the hair on Beka’s neck. She squirmed against him, but he refused to let go, gritting his teeth at the Archangel’s approach. 

“Sam...Sam...Sam.” Michael paused a ways away and shook his head slowly. His voice was calmer now, but his displeasure was clear. “Let...her go. Now.” 

Sam’s hesitation was met with anger, and Michael’s brilliant eyes glowed even brighter. Beka laughed as she felt his Grace shoot passed her and knock Sam backwards, sending him flying into the wall behind them. 

He landed with a pained grunt and climbed onto his hands a knees, his vision blurry from the blow. In his daze, he saw Beka turn to stand beside Michael, her eyes blank, lips touched by a calm yet eerie smile. 

“What have you done to her!” Sam roared from the floor. 

Michael shrugged, his palms turned upwards, arms outstretched. “I have done nothing to her. Rebekah came to me, gave herself to me. I...simply gave her what she’d always wanted.”

Sam was back on his feet, ignoring the pain as he straightened up. “You don’t know what she wants,” he argued. “You don’t know her.”

“And you do?” Michael laughed. 

Sam sneered. “She’s my friend. She’s family.”

“She was your secretary,” Michael spat. “I’ve given her what she needs. Purpose.”

Sam’s jaw twitched and he shook his head. “Beka, listen to me,” he pleaded, moving his eyes from Michael to her. “We can fight him. You can fight him. It doesn’t have to be like this. Come home.” 

Beka smiled. “I am home.” There was an absolute truth in her voice that both broke Sam’s heart and scared him to death. 

“Bek…”

From behind her a step, Michael moved closer and placed his hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. “She belongs to me now, Sammy,” he said, using Dean’s voice and nickname to mock the seething Hunter. “Run along, now. I’m sure we’ll be seeing you… very soon.”

Sam clenched his fists as rage boiled inside his gut. “I won’t leave without her!” he roared. 

Michael did not even flinch, nor Beka, who stood as stoic and tranced as before. “But you must, Sam. She’s not leaving me.” He turned his eyes to Beka who met his gaze with a loving smile. “Are you, my love?” 

“Never.” 

What was left of Sam’s hope shattered with her answer, his jaw dropping slightly as her reply struck him in the chest. 

Michael seemed amused, but not quite satisfied, and he left Beka’s side to attend to his pet. He dropped to one knee and lifted Kelly’s chin gently with one finger. “Kelly, will you help me with something?” 

She smiled up at her Master and nodded. “Yes!” she exclaimed with a joyful laugh. “Anything.”

“Such a good girl.” Michael’s praise was well received, but the fist in her hair was not. 

Kelly screamed as his thick fingers tore through her scalp, yanking her to her feet as she gaped at him in shock.

Sam watched on in horror as Michael dragged Kelly across the room, her feet unable to keep up, sliding over the hardwood. Without a word, he dropped Kelly at Beka’s feet. 

“Sam doesn’t seem to believe you, Rebekah.” His voice was too cool, too calm and it chilled Sam’s soul. “Prove it. Show him that you mean what you say. That you are...mine.” 

Beka waited silently for his command, her eyes flickering quickly to Kelly in confusion before resetting on Michael. 

“You are mine...are you not?” he asked, lifting his chin as he looked down upon her. 

Beka swallowed hard and answered honestly. “Yes.”

Michael nodded once at Kelly. “Kill her.”

Sam began to shake as Beka bent down to pull a blade from her boot. It was short but sharp, it’s old wooden handle softened by bloody and sweaty hands over the years. As she rose back up, she grabbed Kelly by the head, fisting the fragile hairs at the nape of her neck. The poor girl shrieked and begged, tears flooding her bruised cheeks as Beka forced her to her feet. 

There was no mercy in her eyes, no regret. 

She was deaf to Kelly’s cries. 

“Beka, no!” Sam’s voice did little to shake the moment, and he gasped as Beka did as she was told, plunging the blade into Kelly’s chest, piercing her heart. 

Kelly fell from her friend’s grasp, falling to her knees and then onto her back, her mouth open in a scream that would never again be heard; her eyes wide and trained on Michael. 

Beka wiped the knife on her jeans and carefully tucked it back into her boot. Her face showed no glimpse as to her thoughts, no pain, no sadness. She had killed her oldest friend, the one person who knew her best, the last link to her past. 

She had gone there to save Kelly, and lost herself to His whims.

Michael stepped over Kelly’s paling flesh and turned Beka’s face to his. “Very well done, my love.” 

She smiled and sighed, his words flooding her mind with pleasure. “Thank you, Sir.” 

Sam held his breath and took a step towards the mess, determined to bring her back. Behind them, Castiel stirred, groaning as he woke to pain throughout his body. 

Michael turned his eyes to Sam as he walked slowly around his prize. “You see, Sam? It’s too late. She belongs to me, now.” 

Sam could not bear to look at him so he pleaded with Beka, with his friend. He’d brought people back from the edge so many times before, he knew he could do it again. 

His voice was caked with sorrow as he tried, one last time. “Beka-”

Her eyes flashed up at him, a stren and devilish smile curling her lips as she cut him off. “It’s Rebekah.”

When the rush of wings had dissipated and her goodbye no longer rang in his ears, the only thing Sam was left with was the staccato thudding of his heart and the blood of his failures, pooling at his feet. 

 

~


End file.
